


The Woods

by Officer_Jennie



Category: Naruto
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, M/M, Supernatural Elements, Tengu, some horror elements
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-15
Updated: 2020-12-15
Packaged: 2021-03-10 22:53:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 15,820
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28094952
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Officer_Jennie/pseuds/Officer_Jennie
Summary: The trees cannot speak. They do not think. They have no opinions of the world around them. But as Tobirama stared up at them, he knew the forest was not happy. It was angry.
Relationships: Senju Tobirama/Uchiha Madara
Comments: 25
Kudos: 111





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [WrithingBeneathYou](https://archiveofourown.org/users/WrithingBeneathYou/gifts).



> Based on the prompt by WBY:  
> "Tobirama sings in the forest regularly from the time he was a child until young-adulthood. Butsuma discovers his 'silly hobby' and orders him to focus on the war instead of 'play-acting as a geisha in the woods.' The monsters of the forest grow restless when the music stops."

The forest whispered. Echoed with the hushed voices from the shadows, movement in his periphery, a thick presence in the air. Trees and plants breathed in sync in an off rhythm he couldn’t quite follow, like a pulse beating in the woods that only it could feel.

‘It’s all in your head’, so many had told him. His imagination running wild, his mind playing tricks with the light and shadow to make the woods seem alive. Such theories made sense, of course; Tobirama knew that one’s mind could fool them into believing any number of things in the dark, fill in the gaps of knowledge as best it could with the information present.

He also knew this was different. The forest whispered in a way that could be nothing else, breathed and lived and felt and  _ listened _ .

And now the forest was angry.

War had come to their lands, the likes of which had not been seen there for decades. Fires burned in the valley and choked the life out and away, fields barren of wildlife, flora and fauna alike. Bodies decayed in groups and clusters dotting the lands, left forgotten after skirmishes when one side or another were forced to retreat, the smell of rot and the slick of blood thick.

The trees no longer rustled. They hissed around him, even at the edges of the treeline. All Tobirama could do was stare up and up, his heartbeat a little faster than normal, shoulders a bit too stiff while the sounds of clanking armor and shouting faded into the background behind him.

‘It’s your imagination,’ so many told him. ‘Just in your head.’ The trees cannot speak, do not think, have no opinions of the world around them. But as Tobirama stared up at them, as his father and the many troops prepared to move off, he knew the forest was not happy. It was angry.

“Tobirama.”

He didn’t turn fully to greet his father. Couldn’t tear his eyes away from the shadows, his spine shivering just at the thought. Flickering his gaze up at his father for only a second, then right back at the trees, weight shifting as he stood and waited.

“Son, go home.”

“It’s not happy.”

In his periphery, he saw his father’s face pinch, armor clinking as he rubbed his fingers against his temple. “Your mother will be waiting for you. Go.”

“Don’t think it likes when we march.”

“You won’t be marching.” Tobirama frowned, able to tear his gaze away just long enough to tilt his head back and really see the disappointment wrinkling his father’s forehead. He knew  _ he _ wouldn’t be marching; he’d not marched with them even once before, but that wasn’t the point.

Not that his point really mattered. Before he could get huffy, his father pointed towards the compound, and the look he gave him promised he’d regret not listening to him immediately.

The promise didn’t stop him from stalling just enough to stare up at the trees one last time. He went home feeling heavy, curling up in his mother’s lap for some sort of comfort as he stared out the window at the forest that crept up towards half of their compound, the treetops just visible passed their walls.

Daylight couldn’t break the shadows there, and burying his face into his mother’s shoulders wouldn’t break them either - but Tobirama did anyway, letting her try to shush his fears away no matter how silly and unfounded she thought them.


	2. Chapter 2

It was the year that his mother passed that Tobirama dared to sneak out alone. Night shadows wrapping around him, his paleness only hidden due to the new moon, the sky blank and dull despite the numerous stars already high overhead.

He was lost. Not in a physical sense or any way he’d known before. Lost and floating, lost and heavy all the same, lost from the first loss that had ever effected him directly.

Mother was gone and not coming back. He knew this. Knew death as a permanent and frequent occurrence, and yet know he was knowing it for the first time in such an intimate fashion.

He paid no mind to where he walked. Stumbling over the rocks in his path, unused to walking even a short distance in such poor lighting, his eyes straining just to see the path he followed. It hardly registered at all when the path became dirt, the walls of his compound left behind as he continued on to wherever his feet would take him.

It should have caused fear. Staring up at the trees above, finding them looming as they always were. Knowing the shadows were watching, feeling his spine crawl - and yet it caused none. No fear, no apprehension, none of what would normally have him crawling into bed with his mother to pass the night away in peace.

His mother was gone anyway. Who else would listen to his fears enough to comfort them?

Tobirama went into the woods. Not far, but the trees were dense still, closing in like they might reach down and pluck him from the faux safety of the ground he walked on. He found himself near ones wider than any other he’d seen before, his feet stopping at their roots, eyes straining to separate their dark shape from the dark around them.

He was cold. Not just from the cool air, but cold deep in his bones, shivering despite himself.

The trees whispered. Scratched against each other in the wind, their words so quiet he couldn’t tell if he was really hearing them. Without any other way to comfort himself, Tobirama wrapped his own arms around him, staring up at the deepest source of his fears that so many had said could not harm him.

A song formed on his lips. Nothing more than a hum, soft and just as lost as he, but it was one familiar and warm. Over the short years of his life, his mother had sung him many songs: ones from her own childhood in the fields and valleys her people would travel, ones that told stories of pasts both real and not, ones that were nothing more than soft tones meant to soothe a child’s worries away in the dark.

It was a softer one that came to him. One that he kept quiet at first, close to himself in the hopes that it would calm him. But a shift in the air made him frown, the song ending as he listened to the woods more closely.

For a moment almost too brief to notice, the denseness lessened. The air felt a little easier to breathe, the forest lighter in a sense he had no words for. It was puzzling, but most importantly it was something to take his mind off the horror that had been clouding it before.

He knew the forest had no sentience. It could not; it was a mass of a multitude of various flora and fauna, not one giant creature that lived and breathed and understood. But he was young, and lost, and if humming a soft song taught to him by his late mother would soothe his nerves even a little then Tobirama was hardly in the sort of mental state to stop the tune from coming.

It was just before dawn that Tobirama made his way back home, stumbling along over rocks and roots that his poor vision couldn’t see. And for once Tobirama did not fear showing his back to the trees, finding their looming presence more of a simple fact instead of the threat it had always been before.


	3. Chapter 3

Singing became a common pastime in his youth. The late hours, after the sun was far gone from the sky and anyone who might catch him was lost to sleep, were spent in the woods, small fingers running along the rough bark of the trees as Tobirama wandered with a song on his lips.

It was not a place in which he felt safe. Even now that he braved weaving through the woods, now that the air did not try to suffocate him, it was something to be wary of. But he found the forest tolerated his presence as long as he sang, whatever tune came to him each night soothing both the wildness about him and his own nerves as well.

Being away from his compound in general was an unsafe way to pass his time. Tobirama had been raised with steel in his hand from the moment he could grasp onto a weapon, but he was still a  _ child _ , mature as he was or not. The armor in their clan’s armory did not fit him, his body exhausted itself quickly, and overall he was hardly a threat to anyone that was used to fighting child soldiers - which he wasn’t even was yet in all technicality, having yet to receive a mission or even see a battlefield.

Wandering on his own could get him worse than a stern lecture or hand. It could be the end of his sort life if he were caught by an enemy, and considering how so few considered the woods as he did - as a danger in and of itself, a presence on their land that was a  _ threat _ \- most would still be willing to use it as cover for their travels.

He saw no tell of any other visitors to the forest, however. For the weeks that he wandered its natural paths, wearing the grass and dirt down with his tiny feet. Weeks that turned into months, little changing inside the shelter of the trees despite how the whole world around them changed with the going seasons.

In fall, the outer trees changed. The tree line became as colorful as he could ever perceive it. His cousin Touka pointed out the different colors though he saw less variety than her, squinting up at them and wanting to stomp his foot at how unfair his poor eyesight was. What she described as red simply appeared like a darker form of their normal color to him, though she assured him it was bright like the setting sun (another thing that was simply a darker shade than the typical bushes and grass and trees around him).

With the dark of night hindering him further, and the general increase in shadows as he walked and hummed in the forest, it was difficult to tell at first that the colors were not changing. Really, Tobirama wasn’t certain if they were or not. He would stop and squint up at the canopy as best he could, tilting his head back and forth, his bangs falling out of his face while he tried and tried to guess at what color the leaves were above him. Were they still green? Red? They appeared darker in his vision just as the ones visible at the tree line were, but  _ everything _ was darker so far in. It blurred together at night as well, making him entirely uncertain if his mind was filling in the blanks or not where his eyes couldn’t quite make out the reality of it all.

Even with the care he was taking to not get caught, he considered bringing it up with someone. Asking if the leaves were changing, if anyone could see a difference that he couldn’t, but even young as he was he recognized a bad idea when he had one. Instead, he sat down at the roots of the trees he couldn’t identify the species of, by then singing without thought of it as he studied the world around him.

As ominous as the forest felt, it wasn’t quiet. The insects sang, the occasional bird rustled the leaves, even an occasional deer or small rodent could be seen or heard disturbing the bushes and undergrowth. The strategies of recognizing danger he was learning from his studies said that the spine crawling fear he’d had of the woods made no sense. Nothing suggested he was being watched beyond the hairs on his neck being on end. Nothing suggested that a presence beyond himself was there that didn’t belong, and not even the way the animals acted around him hinted at any threatening like a predator was near either.

He was too curious for his own good. That’s what everyone had always told him, despite the pros of wanting to know everything. A shinobi needed to gather information but sticking his hand in places it didn’t belong could get him bit or cut or worse, and bodily existing in such a place on his own so under-prepared for danger was something he  _ knew _ wouldn’t do him any good.

It was like poking at a wound, walking in the woods every night. Like forcing oneself to stare off the edge of a cliff when one was terrified of heights. He eased into it in a way, comforted as his humming took the edge of fear away, but still his hands would clench the fabric of his hakama every time he settled against the roots of the trees that watched him.

Winter drove him indoors, away from his night wanderings. The cold air cracked his skin and brought a nasty flu with it, keeping him bedridden for weeks when it only took a turn for the worse. It was luck and privilege that kept him from going as many of the elders of their clan did, the illness having spread like fire and taken their clan like an epidemic over only a few short nights.

His father clicked his tongue at the numbers they lost, the money they spent on medicine, resources wasted away due to forces outside of his control. Tobirama watched as his sensei was buried, yet again forced to know death as an intimate companion.

Not until spring came was he able to sneak off again, donning a light outer layer to keep the remaining chill away. His father had remained in his study most of the night, dim light from the candles therein flickering out into the hall, but Tobirama knew from experience that his father would not check in on him (a part of his heart ached at that, remembering his mother’s habit of doing so. Every night, no matter if he was awake or asleep, no matter how many times he told her he was far too old to need her to do so. How he wished he could tell her what it meant to him, how he wished to feel her gently tuck the quilt around him and brush the hair from his face. Regrets and lost time that would never be recovered, lost chances stolen away from him).

The rest of the clan was either long asleep or far too busy to notice the child sneaking out through a small crack in the compound’s walls - something he knew he’d have to bring to his father’s attention eventually, but let slide for now considering any well enough trained enemy could just climb the wall anyway. Without snow covering the ground he no longer blended in to his surroundings as he did in winter, and he fought off a pout at the thought; if only the illness had not taken him out of commission, he could have used his coloring to his advantage for just about the first time in his life.

Something he’d have to use later on, then. If his father’s old books were correct, there was a whole country named after and covered with the stuff somewhere to the north. Maybe once he was an accomplished enough shinobi he could travel there and see it for himself.

Not that he liked the stuff all that much. It would just be nice to have camouflage instead of sticking out like a sore thumb all the time.

He stopped thinking about such things of the future once he passed the first tree, almost brought to a halt physically when it hit him. The air. The shadows. The heaviness around him.

Tobirama swallowed hard, his hand shaking where it came up to tug his cloak around him tighter. For a moment he forgot what used to calm the forest - for it was anything but calm around him. His steps faltered but he found his voice, almost too afraid to start the gentle lullaby that came to him, reaching out to trail his fingers against the trees with the hesitation of one who assumed the act would cause them pain.

For all the times he’d been there before, for all the fear that the place had brought him, it had never felt quite like this. He couldn’t place why, couldn’t place whatever emotion the trees were hissing at him in the breeze, but he knew it was directed at  _ him _ .

No matter what morbid curiosity had always brought him back, over and over despite the lacking logic of it all, Tobirama couldn’t bring himself to venture far that night. All he could do was settle near the edge of the woods, humming his soft lullaby, his bare feet digging into the moss and earth while he told himself not to run.

Little by little, the air calmed. The rustling above sounded less like the anger of rattle snakes and more like the gentle brush of leaves against bark. Shadows no longer played horrid games in his periphery but instead flowed together like normal, as if the magic of the place could be and was lulled by the simple presence of the tune he brought with him.

Before that night, it had only ever occurred to Tobirama to go there out of his own odd desires. It was after that morning’s dawn colored the land around him, his feet carrying him quickly home as to not get caught out, that he found his mind focusing on a reason that made it a necessity more than a desire.

The woods had been angry without his song. If going and singing to them would keep them calm, he had little choice but to do that - for if no one else would take the threat seriously, he’d simply have to protect them from the shadows.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tobi has deuteranomaly - red/green color blindness


	4. Chapter 4

Days turned into months, which turned into seasons and years, all passing by in a slow drag that raked against his skin. Tobirama found that the war marches he’d once longed to be a part of were nothing more than a torture to his mind, each step a promise of its own, one that would be fulfilled not on the battlefield but in the clawing nightmares that would awake him in the aftermath.

A shinobi would find no such time as a childhood, and he learned that as all the rest had before him.

He still had the foolish thoughts of a young one, no matter how the battles might have scarred up his body and hardened his mind. Even after his voice had begun to crack and his limbs became gangly he felt the forest draw him near, the shadows morphing into shapes that should have been easy to discard as fantasy now that he was older.

No matter how many times he told himself it wasn’t real, he couldn’t help but feel the anger in the air - and feel it simmer down whenever he sang the trees into a state of rest.

Such foolishness could never last in his world, however.

It was the summer after his thirteenth birthday that this chapter of his life ended. The summer was new, not quite sweltering in its heat or humidity even in the worst parts of the day, so the night air was pleasant and cool still as he crept out of the house. After years of practice doing so (and training in espionage as well, something his father had been actually proud to see him excelling in), the path he took was second nature: out his bedroom window which stayed open most nights anyway, up onto their roof, hopping over to the next using the tree between them, skipping the tiles he knew would creak under foot as he raced towards the wall to jump and land on the other side.

Sneaking off as he’d used to, using only the ground and shadows for his path, would have worked just fine as well. But the hole had been patched up in the wall several years before; he used it as an excuse to run along the rooftops, firmly pushing back the fact that he simply found it amusing to run above people while they slept away and had no idea he was doing so.

When one’s life was filled with horrors, one had to find amusement where one could. He thought it was at least decent of him to find one that harmed no one while he did so.

The grass and ground were damp beneath him, the midday rains having come rather suddenly and stayed for most of the evening. He loathed how it made his footsteps audible but pushed any nerves back. After so many years, most nights he felt cocky over how he’d never be discovered, but some nights he still wanted to turn and walk backwards just to be sure no one was following him. This night just happened to be one of the latter.

At first, the woods felt as they always did. The air wrapped around him as he wandered inward, the bugs and wildlife quieting down as he neared them with his own tune, the rest of the forest still buzzing about as usual. His nerves kept his ears strained, body on high alert, but soon even the tension relaxed away in the false security he’d found under the oaks and shadows.

Nothing had ever harmed him here. Not that he truly felt safe. Only a handful of seconds could pass with that feeling of safety before something reminded him that he was an intruder in this place, not something that _belonged_.

The night passed as it always did. By then he’d almost perfected the art of resting without falling asleep, his eyes closed and head back as he rested against one of the larger trees, one leg hanging off of the high branch he’d nestled himself in. Not once did he let his hum falter, the moon rising and then setting before he finally stirred and set on his way back home.

No incidents, as usual. By now he wasn’t really sure what he expected to happen. For the trees to reach down and take him hostage, a large predator of sorts to swoop in and maul him, the ground to open up and some sort of shadowed beast to drag him down into burning pits before the earth mended itself back up. None of it sounded plausible in any fashion, _nothing_ about his fears of the place felt logical, and if he was honest with himself that was the thing that bothered him the most about the damned place.

There was no logic to why he hated it. Why he feared it, or why he was so certain everyone else should feel the same. Because no matter how he looked at it, they were just trees. Trees and bushes and insects and the occasional finch. All things that could be found in so many other places that it made no sense whatsoever to have such a crawling feeling of disbelonging in this one in particular.

He hated it, and hated that it was still effecting him. After all the years of nothing happening, he was still going out there and singing to the nothingness as if it would save the world around him.

And yet he knew full well he’d be out the next night to do it again.

Much like every morning, he managed to make it back with an hour or so to spare before he was expected up. The lights were still off around the compound, his clan still sleeping as he once again ran across the rooftops, not even a candle flickering in the main house’s windows as he slipped through the one to his bedroom to rest while he could. It was pleasantly cool enough that his eyes were already drooping, and it crossed his mind to not even bother slipping into his sleeping yukata before crawling into his futon.

It crossed his mind, but he didn’t follow through with that. The thought of getting dirt on his sheets sent his skin crawling, and just as he was making his way towards his dresser to make sure that didn’t happen the door to his bedroom slid open.

“My office, Tobirama.”

Tobirama whipped around and barely caught the look of displeasure on his father’s face before the man left, leaving the door standing open behind him. With his sleeping yukata hanging from his hands, Tobirama stood there for a minute, just staring at the open doorway, mind going through all of the possibilities as to why his father would be summoning him at that time.

It was obvious, of course. Little else would have caused such a meeting _and_ that look on his face, so thinking of any other reasons was a pointless venture. Tobirama didn’t even bother refolding the yukata as he placed it back in its drawer, shutting the dresser and making his way out into the hall and towards his father’s study.

The room was colder than much of the rest of the house. With the shades drawn all day not even the sun warmed the place, so even if it hadn’t been before dawn that wouldn’t have changed. It had Tobirama’s toes curling against the cold floor as he entered, shutting the door as quietly as he could before settling himself on one of the cushions in front of his father’s desk.

His father remained standing. Eyes focused on the papers he was shuffling about and not on his son. Something he was used to when meeting him in there; his father was ever looking elsewhere in his displeasure, as if the very sight of Tobirama just brought up all the wrong he’d done.

“Your foolishness cannot continue.”

Butsuma paused the shuffling of his paperwork and only spared a single glance towards his son. If the tone alone hadn’t been enough to make Tobirama freeze, the look itself did. He knew better by then than to argue with his father, especially whenever he put off such a mood.

But…

Tobirama knew it was foolishness, as his father had said. No sentience would be found in the shadows or branches of those looming trees. But he also knew in the depths of his being that he _had to continue_ , and a single spark of fear at what might happen if he _didn’t_ gave him back his voice.

“I can’t stop.”

A finger tapped on Butsuma's desk. Two and three, arrhythmical, his agitation showing with the beat. Once again, he only bothered with a single glance, his tone sharper and more final than before. “It was not a request.”

It was a toss up over whether it was braver or stupidity that made Tobirama want to argue further. Either way, he had to steady himself, his fingers gripping the fabric of his hakama tight, breaths shaking as he inhaled them to calm himself.

“Otou-sama, it’s the only way to keep it calm. I know it seems foolish-”

“’Keep it calm’?”

His father put his papers down at that, finally giving a long, hard look at his son. It wasn’t the sort Tobirama ever wanted directed at him, his own gaze quickly finding a warped portion of wood on the desk in front of him to focus on.

Speaking up had been unwise. He shouldn’t have done it. Drawing attention to why he’d been going out there all this time wouldn’t earn sympathy or any sort of understanding from his father. If anything, it would make him seem even more _foolish_ \- and yet he’d spoken up anyway. Why? What was it about that damned place that made Tobirama want people to _believe him_ so badly about it?

“What, exactly, are you ‘keeping calm’ by playing geisha in the woods?”

The jab against geisha aside (Tobirama had personally never understood why so many frowned upon the profession), he did his best to calm himself, finding the effort lacking without being able to hum. Still, he managed to tear his gaze away from the desk, up almost to the point of meeting his father’s - and hating how the man stared down at him as if he were nothing but an impudent child.

Now that he’d opened his big mouth about it, he couldn’t exactly ignore his father’s question. This was not the sort he’d ask and expect Tobirama to remain silent over - after years of dealing with the man, Tobirama could thankfully tell the difference.

It would have been easier if this had been science. Having a concrete explanation had always been the basis of any discussions or persuasion Tobirama had ever been successful with, and even though he knew he could never convince his father why his fears were founded (mainly because he himself didn’t truly believe they _were_ ) he still desperately wanted to. If only so he could keep going, keep appeasing whatever kept him so on edge while he was there.

He didn’t have anything concrete. Nothing scientific, no actual evidence beyond creeping feelings and the shivers that ran down his spine. Things that   
didn’t convince _him_ , and yet he’d have to make do.

“There’s…something in the woods. I know how it sounds.” Tobirama rushed that out quickly at his father’s scoff, determined to give his explanation no matter how ridiculous it might be. “But there _is_ something. I feel it watching me every time I’m there, and it’s malicious in nature.”

Perhaps to a civilian, the idea of one _knowing_ they’re being watched could be scoffed off as well. But it was a shinobi’s duty to be vigilant and perceptive; that portion, at least, couldn’t be scoffed off as easily as the rest. Tobirama had been trained to recognize when he wasn’t alone since he was a very small child, and even before his sensing abilities had truly started to shine he’d always been _good_ at it.

Even if he couldn’t prove anything was there, that alone should be enough to cause some doubt.

Some doubt was not enough. Butsuma’s scowl did not falter. Nothing softened in his eyes or his stance, nothing changed in his expression to suggest that he’d taken any of that as anything more than the crazed imaginings of a child he believed it to be.

His father clicked his tongue before speaking, a single finger tapping against the papers he’d been messing with only a few minutes before. “Tobirama. Do you know what these are?”

The question threw Tobirama off guard, his eyes blinking rapidly at the change in topic. It took a few moments to even figure out what his father was asking of him, and even after that it only left him more confused than before. How was he supposed to know what paperwork his father had on his desk? If he’d even tried to peek at it, he would’ve likely been whipped.

“I- I’m not sure what it is, no.” He hated that he stammered. Fumbling over words might not show an inherent weakness in someone but his father _saw_ it as one, and looking weak in front of that man could lead to no good.

As it surely would now, with his father’s finger tapping even harder against the parchment. “This is a mission missive. One to Tsuchi no Kuni.” His father didn’t seem to care that he paled at those words, carrying on without a pause or hesitation. “Speed expertise is being requested.”

Silence took the room. Tobirama felt the sweat beading on his forehead but didn’t dare to wipe it away, not daring to do anything but stare past his father at the wall behind him.

The last four teams had not returned. It was a death sentence to be sent there, and the both of them knew it. A death sentence his father was willing to put on his head.

“It was not a request, Tobirama.” His father’s words were final as he looked back to his paperwork, picking up the mission missive to flip through once more. “Do not go back there.”

Tobirama would have been a fool if he thought for a second his every movement would not be watched from then on, and he was no fool. He went back to his room with a formal farewell to his father, his feet and chest heavy, eyes hardly seeing the hallway in front of him.

Being unable to appease whatever force he’d been keeping at bay was not the only thing that kept him from sleeping the next night. His father was willing to kill him over disobedience. That alone had his steps taken with care over the following weeks, his head and eyes consciously kept from turning towards the woods, the shivers down his spine caused by the one who’d sired him rather than the evil that resided just outside the walls of his home compound.

The threat within, after all, was always more dangerous than the threat out there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tsuchi no Kuni - Land of Earth/Earth Country
> 
> Edit: LOLOLOLOL I'M SO DUMB xDD If anyone was wondering, no, I did not mean to call Butsuma Tajima by accident. Tobi's father is Butsuma in this story xDD it's been edited out


	5. Chapter 5

Civilians had started to disappear.

The war had not ended as quickly as the Senju had hoped. Nomadic tribes from Kiri as well as Suna had moved into Hi no Kuni, and though their forces as travelers were not as well founded as the Senju’s even the advantage of knowing the land did not make fighting off so many shinobi simple. It raged for well over a decade, one skirmish bleeding into another, never ending battles looking so similar to the last that Tobirama often felt as if it were one single and horrific nightmare.

Most turned numb to death. In a way, he did as well. The blood on his hands was just a color, a stain like any other that had to be removed merely for hygiene’s sake. His nights no longer haunted by the faces of those he’d felled, days no longer spent wondering the ‘what ifs’ over the fate of his life and those he fought.

But his wasn’t the only opinion on the matter.

Logic and experience told him the trees were just that: trees. Flora that grew near their compound and nothing more, and that the imaginations of his childhood had to have been fake, were unreasonable in nature. But Tobirama still avoided traveling through the dense forest despite his father no longer dogging his steps, still felt a prickle of fear down his spine every time he turned his back to the shadows therein.

His father would have scoffed at his continued fears, though Tobirama would have classified them as more cautions himself. For that reason, he kept them to himself. He didn’t make any suggestions on changing their patrol routes, didn’t try to lead any war parties away from the woods, only followed and listened as a clan heir should.

But that was before the disappearances.

Tobirama stood in his father’s office, waiting. Fingers drumming against the windowsill, eyes scanning the trees he could see just outside the walls. Unfounded fears were easy to ignore, to push back and force into silence in his mind, but civilians were  _ missing _ .

He knew the second the door opened that he would be in for it. Entering his father’s office without permission, standing behind the desk in such a familiar fashion. But he didn’t give his father time to even start a lecture, pushing himself away from the window and turning to start one of his own.

“Do you know how many civilians have gone missing in the last month alone?”

Not the best tone to take. Or the best tactic to use in starting a conversation with his father, though in his defense it was one his father had taught him. Starting with questions meant that the speaker could lead the conversation in the direction they so pleased. In this case, if his father said no, Tobirama would have a foot in to explain and present as the more knowledgeable of the two; if his father said yes, then it would be easy for Tobirama to take an accusatory approach and suggest that he’d done wrong by not addressing it before.

As the one who had taught him such speech tactics, his father was hardly going to fall for them - whether or not Tobirama had purposely set him up. Instead he clicked his tongue, moving passed the threshold of his office where he’d hesitated for a moment, and picking up some scroll or another to frown at in order to dismiss Tobirama’s urgent tone nonverbally. “I’ve told you before to make an appointment if you need to speak on professional matters, Tobirama.”

Since he’d been a young boy whose concerns over the woods had been dismissed so casually as wild imaginings, Tobirama had grown to loathe being ignored in such a fashion. His arms crossed over his chest, fingers digging into them in a nearly vain attempt to keep himself calm.

“Ten.” It tasted of bitter almond, that one word. Foul like nothing else. “Ten civilians gone. That makes thirty just this year.”

“Perhaps you’ve forgotten the duties of a clan head.” Butsuma sat down at his desk and kept his eyes on his paperwork, studying the scroll as if they both didn’t know he wasn’t truly reading it. “If they’re not sinking in, you’ll be shadowing me more often.”

The avoidance and the undertone of insults had Tobirama’s shoulders tensing, fingers digging into his forearms where they were crossed tightly over his chest. “If this trend continues, over a hundred could be lost this year. The farmers to the east could be wiped out. Who would supply us with grain for the winter then? Meat and eggs in the fall when the markets are closed?”

At least that got his father’s attention. The man frowned down at his scroll before he put it down, turning just his head to look up at his son. No one who had ever met Butsuma would be foolish enough to call him an empathetic man, but few would be able to deny he led his clan well in ways. In Tobirama’s life alone their food stores had only fallen short once during the winters, and that had been more caused by a year plagued with crop blight and disease. His father had learned since then, and any threat to their food supply was a threat he took seriously.

“You have a suspect for this then?”

“I do.” Tobirama uncrossed his arms, looking back towards the window, at the trees off in the distance. “There have been reports of bandits in the area. Possibly descendants of shinobi, or clan abandoners. The descriptions of their numbers and the like are hearsay at best, however. Which is why I’m bringing it to your attention.”

Play his father’s inflated sense of self importance. That was his goal here, his shot at actually being heard and believed. And it seemed to be working. Butsuma notably did not reject or deflect with more questions, instead narrowing his eyes in thought, considering it for a time.

“You will not be getting a team for this.”

“I won’t need one.” Tobirama knew when he’d won so didn’t bother pushing for more; he didn’t  _ want _ more anyway, and the relief flooding through him helped clear his mind and let him lay out in acceptable terms what he’d need. “All I need is time. Within a few weeks I could have the bandit cell snuffed out and eradicated.”

“This will not be interfering with your duties.” Butsuma’s tone was harsh as he turned back to his desk, reaching for a quill to get to his paperwork. “Do this in your spare time, and do it quickly. Winter might not be near but the preparations must happen sooner rather than later.”

With his battle firmly won, Tobirama gave a curt nod. It would have been pressing his luck to stay any longer (and truthfully, he’d never cared for his father’s presence to begin with) so he left immediately, off to finish up his tasks for the day and get a head start on tomorrow’s so he could leave in the morning.

Since he’d played his cards right, his father would believe him off chancing the ghosts of bandits. And really, if he ever demanded proof, Tobirama could bring back the bodies of any old miscreant and get away with it. He’d never have to know Tobirama was chasing the ghosts of shadows from his childhood.

Despite knowing logically that he’d need rest in order to be in top shape, Tobirama ended up getting only a handful of hours that night. His ability to stay up all night and still function had dwindled with age but he forced himself to manage, having packed the night before and only needing to grab the small parcel he was taking with him before he was out the door.

Breakfast was had along the road, eating quickly as he made his way into the woods. It was finished before he actually made it very far, his nerves wanting nothing to distract him from his surroundings, the shivers on his spine having him on alert and jumping quickly up into the trees.

Technically, he’d been here plenty enough after his childhood ventures had been put to an end. Patrol routes and war formations having taken him passed the tree line, much to his consistent discomfort with the area. But it had never been alone since then, never without at least two or three others to keep his mind busy, focused on something other than the tricks that the light played with his eyes.

For once, he would not be sticking to the outskirts. It took conscious effort to force himself to change course, heading deeper into the forest than he’d possibly ever been before, his skin itching with the knowledge that no one was here to have his back.

He fought the urge to hum. Experience told him it would at least make him feel better but he didn’t allow himself to then. This was not about his childhood imaginings, the falsehoods that had made him believe that the shadows could watch him. This was about finding the  _ truth _ , and it couldn’t be some incorporeal force that had been picking the civilians off in increasing numbers over the last several months.

Something was  _ here _ . Something lived here, in the woods, that was killing them - stealing them away from their families and not leaving a trace behind them. Humming to soothe himself would only give his presence away, if it wasn’t already known.

Tobirama traveled in silence. He kept his pace steady and much slower than necessary, allowing him to keep his breaths even and quiet. The branches barely shook as he landed and launched off of them in rhythm, the beat found within his footfalls and his breaths and his heart’s rhythm easing the part of his mind that needed controlled order.

All he had was a few precious hours that day to explore what he could. Hunt for disturbances that couldn’t be explained away by normal wildlife, pieces of cloth, human blood - anything that he could find that might point towards the culprit of the missing and dead civilians.

That day, Tobirama found none.

He’d searched as carefully as he could, a scowl set hard on his face when his hands remained empty of evidence. A creeping feeling is all he returned to his compound with, and he was quite miffed with himself over the lot of it all. Thinking he’d find something on day one, the fact that he still hadn’t even though it was rather illogical to assume he would, it all left him filling out his paperwork with just a little more force behind his quill until he tore a hole in a missive from the Hyuuga.

Not good. Letting his emotions get the best of him was anything  _ but _ good. He set his quill down and dropped his head in his hands, swearing to himself that he would get a decent amount of sleep that night even if it meant abandoning the rest of his paperwork to do so.

The next few days went by in a blur of training and drills and more paperwork. For the first time in years he set aside his own personal projects to focus solely on his clan (though, in his mind, his projects had always been for his clan. An heir and future clan head must think beyond what most would expect them to, and it was hardly Tobirama’s fault that many did not see the issues his jutsu and inventions would help), his every minute and hour dedicated to getting as much done in advance as feasibly possible to give himself time.

It was as if he was saving up rations of it. Every spare second stashed away as he pushed himself further and further, running off coffee and stubborn dedication more than anything else. By the time he was certain he could take a good two or three days off he was about ready to collapse, barely able to keep himself steady as he walked passed his father’s office towards his bedroom.

Couldn’t let the man know how utterly exhausted he was. Also couldn’t afford to truly catch up on all the sleep he’d missed either. So he set his inner alarm for just about five hours, then didn’t even bother changing into his night clothes before crawling underneath the quilt of his futon.

With any luck, the next few days might bring the beginnings of answers to him. Not even able to argue against himself over that no doubt vain hope, Tobirama let sleep take him, his dreams that night plagued by a sense of foreboding so thick it left the night air heavy in its presence.


	6. Chapter 6

Preparations took longer than Tobirama would have liked. By the time he was stuffing scrolls in his bag for his self-appointed mission, it was well passed breakfast, and a scowl was dragging the corners of his lips downward. He’d hoped to be long gone at this point, deep in the woods to track down whatever answers he could find, but instead he’d had to run about last minute and make sure everything would stay in order while he was gone.

It would have been an absolute filthy lie if Tobirama said he disliked having so much say in the runnings of the clan. The fact that so many of their troupes were under _his_ command, defaulting to his order before his father’s, was a point of pride for him even if it had been Butsuma’s idea to have it as such. Apparently he believed his eldest to be under his thumb firmly enough for it to be a non-issue to share control - something that, much to Tobirama’s chagrin, he was mostly right about.

That point aside, having sway in his clan was a good thing most days. When he needed to be done and gone, however, it was only _half_ a good thing. He purposely kept to the shadows as he left, jumping up and over the wall instead of leaving through the front gate just to be sure no one would try to stop him for anything else.

He did his best to ignore all the creeping feelings as he jumped through the treetops, focusing instead on keeping himself quiet like the time before. This time, however, he had a general direction for where to search, heading northeast as he kept his mind busy keeping a rhythm in his head.

The farmers were east. He’d made it seem as if they were the main target but that had been a stretch of the truth. Most all of those that had been discovered missing (and the few corpses that had been recovered; sadly, they’d been cremated before he had the chance to study them, though why anyone would _cremate_ their loved ones was beyond him) were from the village to the north of the farmers, one that bordered the woods similarly to how the Senju compound did. It was a safe bet to assume whatever had attacked them lived in that vicinity of the forest, and as much as he loathed making assumptions it was the best he had to go off of.

Heading northeast meant he was skirting around in the less dense parts of the forest. The trees were still massive and ancient, the forest floor more a carpet that was hard to make out from where he was, various blobs of tanish brown and grey beneath him blurring as he traveled. It was a good few hours of silence before he finally touched back down, dropping as quietly as he could, a few leaves drifting down behind him as he scanned the area around him.

Something felt off when he tried to sense around him. It was mostly normal, mostly nothing, but off to the west, near the heart of the woods, something was….

He couldn’t put his finger on it, and ultimately shook it off for the time being. If need be he could investigate it later; for now, enough people had lost their lives to whatever was going on in the forest. His clan could not fight and survive a war on so many fronts.

If it hadn’t been for the stigma on shinobi, he would have went to interrogate the civilians first and foremost. But even those used to working with shinobi often found him off-putting, and those not used to working with them often were too frightened to give him anything useful anyway. Most lower-ranking shinobi thought civilians would be easier to work with than their fellow soldiers but they were sorely wrong; Tobirama would take dealing with a dozen snobby and self-impressed non-civilians than one frightened and ill-informed counter part any day.

Perhaps that mindset actually made it more difficult to deal with them on its own. Oh well. Tobirama shrugged the trail of thought off, getting back to work searching for any hints in the surrounding area of what might have been causing so much death in the local populace.

The first day yielded nothing. Night fell long before he made the trek back home and sleep was no kinder to him than his search. Morning came and he loathed the sight of the sun, quickly grabbing some fruit buns to eat on the path and slipping off before anyone could stop him.

Determination alone would not solve the absence of knowledge. Tobirama ground his teeth more and more each night that he drug himself home empty handed, the days he’d built up for his mission slipping away to nothing. More were spent throwing himself at clan duties to build up even more spare time, just to see those days wasted away chasing ghosts in the forest near the edge of the village.

It was well into summer, passed its peak when the days were starting to shorten once more, that at last Tobirama found something.

The deaths had not slowed just as he’d predicted. Perhaps they had not increased exponentially as the pattern had suggested they would but numbers never accurately showed the damage lost lives caused. Just because they were not higher did not mean he could relax or ease off on his search.

His father had been displeased with the lacking results, only adding to Tobirama’s growing fury at himself over it. Fury that he threw into his duties and training, hoping to have a calm mind to keep himself steady and alert as he combed every inch of the forest for what might be attacking the civilians that called his lands their home.

Senju lands. His nails dug into his palm as he dropped down to the forest floor one afternoon, eyes flickering at movement that ended up only being the leaves falling from the trees along with him. They lived on land that bore his name and yet he had done nothing for them, coming back from his searches with nothing to show for them besides sweat and aggravation. How long until their souls turned to demons in their unrest, left to haunt the lands as he continuously failed to bring them peace by ending the slaughter?

A breeze fought its way through the trees, a respite that was more than welcome despite the canopy overhead blocking out most of the sun. But respite wasn’t the only thing it brought with it. Tobirama stood ridged, head cocked to the side as he listened, catching some sort of sound he couldn’t place off the top of his head - but it was a sound that he’d not heard here before, and considering the woes he’d just been lamenting it was more than enough to have him leaping right back into the trees to follow the breeze to the sound’s source.

It took him further west than he’d yet to travel in his search, the oaks and pines getting denser and older as he went. That made it all the more odd to him when he saw a clearing up ahead, even the canopy giving way to a decent amount of sunlight to brighten up the area.

Whatever noise he’d heard, he couldn’t hear it anymore. He dropped to the ground and crept towards the clearing, something having his spine straight and ridged despite logic telling him to remain limber, his hand instinctively resting on the hilt of the sword he’d strapped to his side early that morning.

At the edge of the clearing, he stopped behind a tree. Told himself firmly to get it together because his hairs were standing on end, something in his gut screaming _wrong wrong wrong_. He shook himself and squatted down to peer out from behind the bushes in front of him, hoping the visual confirmation that there was nothing there would calm him.

But blood stained the clearing red, and it was a battle calm that found him instead.

He scanned the clearing with his eyes at the same time that he sensed the larger area around him, feeling nothing but an odd disturbance with the latter. It took only a second to find the source of the blood though, several bodies laid eviscerated on the forest floor, hacked with a weapon or torn open by claws but he couldn’t tell which from the distance.

He’d been hoping for a clue and had found victims instead. Any joy at the thought quickly turned sour in his stomach, a kunai soon in hand as he crept through the underbrush to get a better look at the bodies.

Three. Two women, one man, though one of the women looked to be in her teens. He couldn’t get close enough to examine them without exposing himself, Tobirama pausing several feet away, crouched down and hidden behind some rather unusually large monkshood.

He debated it. Chewed on his lower lip while he sensed out the area again, once again feeling something off in one of the trees nearby. An anomaly of sorts that had him leaning towards caution, creeping back away from the victims to first figure out what was throwing his sensing off.

The tree in question had blood on its bark. Near the side facing the bodies, high enough that it couldn’t have been splash from when they’d been felled. Something or someone had to have jumped up into the oak after killing them, dripping blood from an injury of their own or off their weapons, but a quick glance around didn’t reveal their route out of the area.

More than likely blood from their weapon. Cleaned off before it could leave any more of a trail. A trained shinobi then, considering the height they’d cleared to get into the tree. And they were long gone from how dry the blood was. Tobirama stood up and fully entered the clearing, shooting a last look up at the oak before heading over to the bodies-

There was a shadow in the trees.

His body tensed, breath catching in his throat as he stared up at the nightmare above. Daylight was ripe about them and yet he could not determine the exact form of that which was above, its edges shifting like smoke, burning coals for eyes as it stared back into his own.

It was unnatural. Not human, it couldn’t be. A genjutsu creation perhaps but Tobirama had been fighting genjutsu users his whole life and _knew_ the familiar tug at his brain when he felt it. Nothing of the sort had effected him, no hints of chakra or anything that would typically give them away, the trees and sky all the same colors as he’d always seen them instead of the odd and indescribable ones that always occupied the visual genjutsu he’d been put under before.

Whatever it was, it was watching him. Watching as he stood stalk still in fear, afraid as he’d only been in his childhood, the illogic of it all having him convinced if he moved at all it would attack. As if staying still would keep him safer. But the second it shifted he did as well, broken from the spell and falling into a defensive stance, ready if it decided it wanted him dead as well.

It leaned forward, its mass growing as something spread out behind it. Tobirama didn’t have time to react before it launched itself into the air, the heavy sound of wings beating at the air making him hesitate - what would have meant his end if the creature had wished him harm. But it disappeared instead, Tobirama’s heart left racing as he stared at where it had sat, hardly even realizing that the odd disturbance he’d sensed had gone with it.

Not human. Not human in the slightest, and it wasn’t an animal either. He forced himself to breathe, to lower his kunai as he stared back at the dead bodies behind him, knowing that the beast had killed them.

Folklore and legends had never been a field of interest to him. He started towards the bodies, hating that his steps shook, crouching down near the youngest first. Claw marks, ones that reminded him of the trees in Kaminari no Kuni, the grooves in the bark from bears marking their territory.

No where else barring summons had he seen anything capable of tearing into someone in such a fashion. The hairs on his neck stood on end, Tobirama not able to help but glance up at the sky, wary. It could tear someone apart with its claws alone, _and it could fly_.

He couldn’t bring himself to take his time looking over the area. The clearing was given a quick sweep for evidence and the bodies were looked over only a little more carefully before he sealed them away for later, stuffing the three scrolls in his pack and looking up at the sky once more. More than ever he felt the creeping sense that something was watching him but he couldn’t spot the black figure, nor could he feel the chakra distortion that had gone with it.

Later, after he had the chance to fully analyze his findings and hopefully return the bodies to their families (though if even a shinobi would see them as gruesome he doubted a civilian would truly want to _see_ what had become of them), he would have to turn towards folklore to help him. For now he took the shortest route out of the forest, keeping to the dirt roads that skirted around it and taking the long way home, the whole while waiting for a black shadow to block the sun and try to take him as well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Monkshood/Wolfsbane: Caution/death/misanthropy  
> Kaminari no Kuni - land of lightning, where Kumogakure will be. Pun with bears since Kuma is bear. Past me was so funny


	7. Chapter 7

The families of the dead had not taken the final sight of their loved ones well.

With all that he was, Tobirama had wished someone else could have done this. Been the person to deliver the bodies, to soothe the pain despite how impossible a task that was. Instead they had him, who knew nothing of sugar coating or of how to comfort, who stood awkwardly back and eventually left without even asking the myriad of questions he had for them to find out what might have drawn the beast to them instead of to others.

Intelligence gathering with civilians was never pretty work, but even Tobirama knew it would be tasteless to question them. He left them to their mourning and chose to wander the town instead, feeling wary eyes on his back the whole way.

One of his biggest issues with folklore and legends was how little information was consumable in written form. So many of the farmers and small townsfolk stuck to oral tradition when it came to such tales, which in and of itself was not something he frowned upon. It was the simple fact that it meant he’d have to  _ speak _ with them that was unappealing, meaning he’d have to ask around town and see who was willing to share stories of their heritage with him - and hope it wouldn’t be a waste of time.

To say Tobirama was frustrated, then, when over a month spent following down rabbit holes of old superstitions and wives’ tales was an understatement.

Five more deaths were added to his counter by the time he decided to give up on the town’s oral traditions. He’d spent the entire afternoon and most of the evening in the home of an elderly couple, listening to their tales and overall finding their company decent enough but not hearing a single bit of information that helped him. From the sounds of it their superstitions had started long before the settlement had, none of it pertaining to the surrounding area, no myths of the trees or things that might have come from them to be found.

Coming up on dusk, the streets were mostly empty as he made his way towards the outskirts of the town. Usually he wouldn’t bother with a civilian’s pace but he needed the time to collect himself, to meditate in a fashion and calm his useless frustration.

Frustration would not help him gather information. If anything it would prevent him from looking at any of it clearly.

The sound of a wood broom shushing against the ground was enough to draw him out of his own mind. Near the front of the town sat a rather pitiful looking shrine, its wood old and paint faded from the weather and poor upkeep. As he came closer he saw a miko sweeping the front steps, her beggar’s bowl sat on a stool just outside the gate, empty save for a few smaller coins.

He’d never been one for the faith but he felt some sort of guilt looking at it. Before he thought much on it he pulled out his own coin purse, giving her enough for a few hot meals and planning on nothing more. But he didn’t get a chance to leave just yet, the sounds of sweeping coming to a pause as the miko called out to him.

“At least take this with you.” He frowned as she jogged over to him, patting around her pockets and pulling out what must have been a talisman. She didn’t listen when he told her it was unnecessary, grabbing his hand and tying it around his wrist tight. “There’s little else I could do to repay you. Besides, you travel through the forest - I’ve seen you come from the trees,” she clarified that before he had a chance to ask how she knew, letting his hand go so he could study the talisman. “It would let me rest better knowing you had that with you.”

“You believe traveling there is unsafe then?”

It should not have been such a relief to see her nod. But it was. Tobirama cocked his head and tried to hide his excitement, purposely flicking his gaze towards the trees and back. “I’ve not come across anything to suggest it’s dangerous.”

“Not many believe it is. But, then, most don’t listen to the faith anymore.” She sounded bitter as she leaned against her broom, taking a second to brush her bangs out of her face before looking back up at him. “We used to have holidays. Festivals. Whole days that  _ meant something _ \- and now it’s just trinkets that people don’t know the purpose of. Guess it’s better than nothing at least.”

“Festivals here?” It wasn’t that old of a town; Tobirama was certain he would’ve come across something like that if they’d held any - though, then again, he was rather reclusive and an exceptionally busy person. Maybe he wouldn’t have.

Either way, it didn’t really matter. She shook her head, and sadness touched her face. “No, I meant for the faithful in general- but it doesn’t matter. Just…try to be careful in the forest.”

“What will it protect me from?”

From the way she held herself in that moment, leaning further onto her broom as if to support her, she hadn’t expected him to question it. But it simply wasn’t something Tobirama could leave unquestioned; this was his purpose for exploring the village, after all, a venture that had up until that moment been fruitless. The townsfolk had not given him any folklore to work from but this miko might, and even if there was only a  _ chance _ she could help he was going to take it.

Religion might not be the first or even second source of information he turned to but if it’s what he had it’s what he had.

“Why don’t you come in for tea?”

Tobirama let her lead the way inside of the small shrine, finding it as bare as he’d expected. No superfluous decorations as he’d seen in the capitol’s luxurious shrines, the colors of the wall’s faded, everything clean and dusted but the whole place still empty and small. If the futon in the corner of the off room was anything to go by the miko couldn’t even afford another place to stay, and it was all Tobirama could do to accept the weak tea she offered him.

One look from her told him it was best to accept it. In her place he’d want someone to do the same so he said nothing of it, sipping at it while she found them some cushions to sit on.

“Most don’t care to hear my stories.” After they both settled on their respective cushions she started on her own tea, not hiding the grimace when she had some. “Can’t remember the last time someone wanted to hear one.”

“They’re not just stories, though, are they?” He could hear the hesitation in her voice, the disbelief that he actually wanted to hear what she had to say. As if she didn’t want to go through the effort if he wouldn’t believe them. Luckily for him, he could play the part; he’d believed things he couldn’t prove for years, even if he was a logical being. And there was no telling if what she had was myths or the truth anyway without hearing and investigating.

The question at least eased her, her shoulders no longer as tense, her expression relaxing as she set her cup beside her on the tatami. “If they are, they aren’t mine. Just ones that were told to me when I started working here, back before the last miko retired, and they’d been passed down to her before that.”

“I was under the impression this town was relatively new.”

“That’s right I guess.” She shifted on her cushion, the rough fabric of her yukata scratching against the tatami. “But before this town there was a small one down the road a mile or so. Apparently one of the richer folks in the capitol used to live out this way and take the road. Guess they needed to stop somewhere for rest.

“But that’s not the history you’re here for.” She gave a pointed look to his wrist, the talisman a bright splash of color there in contrast to the rest of him. “I don’t have exact stories or legends if that’s what you’re after, but I can tell you what lives there - in the trees, all that.”

“Whatever information you can share is valuable,” he assured her, trying to not get impatient so close to what could be the truth.

She brushed some stray hair out of her face, frowning at the space between them, her eyes distant. “It’s the spirits. They’re angry- furious, even, at our influence on the land. Especially your kind.”

“Spirits?” He ignored the last comment and the almost accusatory look sent with it, not letting it miff him. “The only forest spirits I know of are kodama, and they’re not exactly the type to kill.”

From what he’d heard, anyway. Which was rather little if he was truly honest. The Senju weren’t exactly known for being a religious bunch and his last visit to a shrine had been nearly a decade before, during a visit to the capitol on a mission with his mother. Visiting shrines so infrequently and skimping on studying the texts wasn’t exactly conducive to having much knowledge on the subject of spirits.

The miko shook her head, confirming at least that Kodama were not at fault here. “Kodama are mischief makers at worst, not killers. Though there are plenty deeper in the forest - or so I’ve heard. What you need to take care to avoid are the tengu.”

He cocked his head, having never heard of them before - unsurprising really. “You’ll have to tell me what those are, I’m afraid. The name has never come up in my studies before.”

“Tengu are…well, hold on.” She got up then, moving to one of the small and rather bare bookshelves that were up against one of the walls. “Since you mentioned studies, you can take this with you when you leave. It’s not getting any other use, really.”

As soon as she handed him the book he was flipping through it, eyes catching here and there on illustrations as she settled down on her cushion once more. “There should be a few pages on them but it’s not very descriptive. I’ve always thought of them as shadow birds - no one seems to be able to get a good look at them. Well…no one alive has, anyway.”

_ Shadow birds _ . Tobirama flipped back to the front of the book, thankfully finding a contents page (some older texts lacked such ease of life additions) and quickly finding the correct page for tengu. As the miko continued he smoothed the page out, studying the illustration and hating the full-bodied shiver it gave him.

“Calling them malevolent wouldn’t really be right since they’re spirits like any other. They were here before us, protecting the forests and trees and all that. But there have been a few times throughout history, mainly when the war fronts got especially bad, that the killings started up.”

The beast stared up at him from the page. An illustration only in name, more of a mess of black ink, vague suggestions of a form with red eyes gleaming out of it. He traced a finger over its shape, wondering if it was the same one he’d seen himself - could they live that long? Spirits in general, these tengu,  _ shadow birds _ . How many people had this one hunted down over the years?

“Keep it with you.” He reluctantly looked up from the illustration, finding the miko’s gaze sharp on him, steady. “The talisman. Best to keep away from the woods altogether, but just in case.”

“You think it will ward them off?”

She grimaced at that, shaking her head and doing quite the opposite of reassuring him. “No idea. But it’s all I have, and I can’t leave you with nothing.”

Beyond that, the miko had no information for him. With the book in hand Tobirama thanked her for her time, soon leaving the shrine and town behind as he made his way home. The talisman tied to his wrist was enough of a conscious reminder to have him skirting around the forest, his eyes flicking its way warily as he took the long way home, not managing to make it back until the shadows cast about him in dusk’s low light.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Miko survived off donations in the warring states period


	8. Chapter 8

Not even the miko’s story or warnings on caution could keep Tobirama away from the woods for long. It was less than a week later that he found himself hesitating at its edge, stretching out his chakra sensing to cover as much of it as he could, trying to find the disturbance he’d felt when the shadow bird -  _ tengu _ \- had been near. With his current knowledge of the beast it was all he could go off of, and when he found no trace of the disturbance he wasn’t sure if that was good or bad for his mission.

Should he look for it, or avoid it? That had him puzzling to himself even as he leapt into the treetops, tracing his steps back to where he’d seen it before. From both experience and the legend from the miko, it had to be the beast slaughtering people. Caught red handed with the blood dripping from it, stirred on by the worsening war front if the historical pattern was being continued.

What its purpose was, he did not know. For all he knew spirits had motives far beyond them, or had no motives at all.

Tobirama took caution when he found the clearing once more. It was empty, even the blood having washed away over time, not a single hint left that this had been the place of such gruesome deaths. He scanned the area for the disturbance and scowled at the tree the tengu had perched in, loathing how eerie the place felt even without it there to watch him.

Nothing here, and nothing near his compound. He stood in the middle of the empty clearing, staring off further west, knowing that to find answers he would have to go looking for the damned beast eventually but not at all wanting to face it.

His own desires rarely mattered in the end.

The further he traveled west, the harder travel was. With the trees growing larger and denser he found it difficult to go at his usual pace, slowing down to make sure his eyes could keep up with his surroundings, forced to squint for whatever patches of light he could see. Beneath him on the forest floor the bushes grew into thickets and briers, climbing and reaching things that seemed far too close to be normal, far too large and overwhelming, twice and even three times the usual size for the flora.

He landed on a lower hanging branch not a mile in, pausing only long enough to glance down with a scowl, catching little difference in the colors beneath him. It all ran together, one giant mass, still in the absence of a breeze and yet he could  _ feel it _ .

The shadows were watching him.

It was a fear and feeling he’d mostly shook off since his youth, or at least become decently accustomed to, to the point where he no longer felt the shivers that ran down his back then. Even though the fear still gripped him he’d become so numb to it - but  _ here _ .

Not here. There was no denying the twitch of his neck wanting him to watch his back, the itch of his palm from how empty it was, how  _ vulnerable _ he felt.

He was not alone here.

The trees continued to grow larger, closer together. With their closeness hindering his ability to keep a visual watch on his surroundings he focused more on sensing for danger, glad then more than ever that he was capable of multitasking so well. It let him keep a proper eye out for the winged figure as well, and Tobirama would be hard pressed to admit it but he was nervous as he stretched out his senses in search for it.

He did not feel its disturbance, but he found himself pausing once more in his journey, on the branch of an oak that was at least four times bigger than any other he’d seen outside of the forest. What caused him pause was a disturbance so light, so small and yet so  _ vast _ that he almost stumbled at its discovery. At how he’d missed it before.

Crouching down on the branch, he squinted down at the forest floor - at the thicket of bushes and briers and flowers that he couldn’t see passed. Something that irritated him beyond reason because something was down there, stretched thin but  _ far _ and yet he couldn’t see anything besides the plant life.

Plant life that really didn’t look that welcoming from above.

Curiosity had ever been one of his greatest vices. His fingers drummed against the bark of the tree before he caught himself and stopped, tilting forward and keeping himself rooted to the spot with chakra in his feet. It hadn’t really occurred to him before but he had been traveling further and further up into the trees as he’d gone westward, and at this point he couldn’t see where the trees ended below. He really had no idea how far up in the tree he was. Just how tall had they grown?

Dropping down through the branches was careful work. Really he could have survived a straight drop down but there was little telling what exactly might be waiting for him below - if the plants could grow so wild, so much larger than seemingly  _ possible _ (which was something he was telling himself firmly to investigate  _ later _ , not now), whatever had been the cause could have easily caused the fauna to grow as well. And herbivores or not, Tobirama wasn’t exactly looking forward to dropping down near a ten foot buck.

He could only hope there wasn’t anything bigger and more interested in flesh growing larger than life here.

It was a relief at least to find no such creatures waiting for him below, but he did find himself dwarfed by plants he usually looked down at or ignored as he walked passed. He had to tilt his head up just to see the tops of what might have been wildflowers, thankful at least that any typical grass that might have grown had been smothered out by all the rest. As it was he was already having to push plants out of his way, finding thorns the size of his fists, grimacing at their sharp edges as he weaved in and out of the flowers and briers.

Despite being on the ground, Tobirama couldn’t find a source of the disturbance around him. The odd distortions that felt similar to chakra but weren’t, that felt so similar to the killer beast he’d run into. From what he could tell the source was underground, perhaps a network of sorts in the soil, but the fact of the matter was that he couldn’t tell. It frustrated him beyond measure but no amount of trying to focus on it would let him  _ feel _ it, as if it was something other than chakra, something he didn’t know how to sense.

Grinding his teeth, Tobirama ignored it for now. He swatted at a few gnats that decided his face was landing territory, glad at least to know the fauna was not like the oversized flora (and hoping that was true of  _ all _ the fauna, though not at all certain what could have caused the plants to go crazy and not the animals). There was no guarantees there wouldn’t be other hurdles to cross, of course, so he kept his wits about him as he traveled further towards the heart of the forest.

It was irritating to find that the disturbance beneath him made it harder to focus and look for the disturbance of the creature he was hunting for. The distraction kept drawing his senses downward, his curiosity getting the better of him, teeth grinding away as he forced himself again and again to search out the creature and not whatever was in the ground.

That did not mean he missed it when he finally felt it. Up ahead, due north, not a mile away from where he stopped short next to some monkshood.

He still wasn’t sure if he wanted to see the thing again - or, rather, potentially  _ see _ it for the first time. His own desires aside he pushed onward still, abandoning the forest floor in the hopes of getting above the creature. Perhaps it was wistful thinking on his part to believe it might have the same downfalls as men but something told him it might not think to check for threats above, considering it would be so used to flying higher than most could reach. Wistful thinking and assumptions, but if that’s all he had to go on - and it was - then he’d make the most of it.

The trees had gotten taller, which wasn’t much of a surprise. He scaled one oak as quickly as he could, hoping to minimize the chances of something sensing or spotting him. Not for the first time he wished he had more information on his quarry; not knowing if it could sense chakra had him on edge, doing his best to use as little as possible just in case it could. The last thing he needed to do was give himself away on the approach, especially since its odd chakra like disturbance made it so hard to focus on and truly pinpoint its exact location.

It turned out to be the correct assumption. Within the half hour Tobirama found himself above the disturbance, straining his eyes below to try to spot the creature that had his heart pounding in his ears, doing his best to keep his breaths quiet. He had no idea what sort of heightened senses the thing had when compared to him, if any at all, but he really didn’t want to risk blowing his cover just from an exhaled breath, tempted to hold a hand over his mouth and nose to prevent just that.

Due to the distortion, he couldn’t tell if it was further down the tree from him or in the forest of flowers and bushes below. He leaned the edge of the branch he’d landed on, hating how thick all of the branches were. It was as if he was laying on the ground and viewing an entire forest the wrong way round, making it nearly impossible to see much beyond his own perch.

Making his way down was really the only option. The thought alone had his nerves shot, and Tobirama took excessive care lowering himself down to the next branch below, not even dropping but climbing down the trunk without the aid of chakra to make absolutely certain there was no way to detect him.

He gave himself a few seconds to breathe when his sandals hit the bark below, fingers still clenched into the rough trunk in front of him. One down, possibly dozens more to go. But just to be sure he checked around this one as well, still not able to catch sight of the beast he was hunting.

Sight wasn’t the first he caught of it. Ten minutes after he landed in the tree and far more branches than he bothered to keep track of, he heard it. Wings beating against the air not far below, almost making him drop full body to the branch he was standing on just from the sheer  _ size _ of them - he didn’t have to see them to know without a doubt they could knock him over in one hit.

At least it didn’t seem to be trying to take off. Tobirama didn’t know much about bird behavior (or if this thing would act much like one anyway) but if he had to guess he’d say it was just moving to settle itself, since the beating stopped and didn’t resume again for the few minutes he stayed frozen in place.

He hated how hesitant and fearful the forest made him. If it was anywhere else, if it was a  _ human _ beneath him, he would have calculated the risks and taken them down without remorse or fear. But he was  _ here _ , in this place, and that was no human below.

The irritation at himself at least helped his resolve. He scooted to the edge of the branch and scoured the tree, certain he’d find the black mass that he’d spotted before - only to find himself frozen once more, this time partially in confusion.

It looked human. Not truly human - but it  _ looked human _ , no dark mass covering its features or obscuring it in any fashion as it had been before. It had human limbs and hair and a face, and furs covering its waist and privates that functioned as clothing, the only real thing pointing towards it being  _ not _ human being the black wings growing out of its back.

No…that was a lie. Tobirama hunkered down lower to the branch, watching the lazing beast below him, how it swung its leg over its own branch as it fiddled with something Tobirama couldn’t see. Its feet were different. Talons at the end of its toes, and he wasn’t mistaken there was another near the back of its ankle as well. A weapon for physical fights more than likely, something it could use to slice open opponents, though what on earth it could normally be fighting was beyond him. What would fight a bird so massive besides perhaps humans?

Well. At least the clothing gave some of its intelligence away. If it was smart enough to fashion clothes it was intelligent, and the fact that it thought to cover its privates meant it at least had some of the emotional range of humans as well. Animals, true beasts, didn’t care if someone or something saw their reproductive organs.

Any and all information he could gather could be priceless, but ultimately Tobirama wasn’t here to study it. Shameful, really. He’d never been that interested in studying animals but he’d never come across an animal like  _ this _ , and the fact that it was intelligent could mean so much for their world. 

Though, now that he thought about it, he hesitated, one hand resting on the pouch at his side. He could kill it. Could get rid of it and hope it was the only one, hope there weren’t any more of them lurking about and slaughtering the civilians. But the chances that evolution had created one and  _ only one _ was so so slim.

How intelligent were they? Would others of its species mourn and grieve over this one’s death, perhaps attempt to find and kill the one responsible? Would killing it ultimately be good and save the lives of civilians? Or would its death only perpetuate more death and lead to even more unmarked graves of lost loved ones in the forest?

Gods but he wished he had time to evaluate every potential. He grinted his teeth in annoyance, ducking down further when the thing shook its wings out again below. For now he just had to go with what he had, and that was that this beast had killed innocent people. And if he waited much longer the thing might take off.

Not something he could let happen. It had taken far too long to track it down as it was; he was  _ not _ letting it slip out of his grasp.

Weapon drawn, Tobirama breathed deeply and as quietly as he could, wishing the forest wasn’t so silent. Yet another oddity he had to ignore in favor of putting his weight on the balls of his feet, one hand still on the branch as he leaned forward, all of him keenly aware that this could go horribly wrong.

Tobirama had met few in his life that could give him a decent fight. Most shinobi didn’t live up to his potential, for lack of talent or honing of their skills he wasn’t sure. But from the moment he dropped down on the branch and found his wrist quickly caught, weapon dropping from his hand as the creature turned to snarl at him, he knew he’d finally met one - and also desperately wished the element surprise had not been lost.

It was stronger than him. Chakra helped but it didn’t negate the difference, Tobirama finding himself struggling to gain the upper hand, cursing the damned wings as they tried to knock him backwards or off the branch. He had been right at the very least that they would hurt like fuck if they hit him, the air being beaten next to him and keeping him as cautious as possible as he wrestled the creature.

His biggest mistake was one he thought would safe him. Get away from the wings, get where he would have the advantage. Tobirama had fought nothing large with wings before and thought it best to fight the creature as he would another of his own kind. As it turns out that was not the best way to fight something that could take off in the air.

With him no longer in its wings way, Tobirama was mete with a snarl full of teeth, only able to feel a second’s worth of surprise at the fact that its face was  _ very human _ , before he found its claws digging into his forearm and his weight was taken from him.

Flying, it turns out, was not a very pleasant pass time when he had no control over where he was going. Blood fell down his arm from where the thing clutched onto him, ripping into the muscle there, Tobirama’s entire weight dangling from that grip. He didn’t bother thinking whether it was safe to struggle or not, willing to risk it if it meant getting away and having his feet on the ground again - branches, or branches, he’d settle for those - quickly realizing that his weight was not something the beast could manage easily. It snarled at him, its eyes sharp and angry, wings beating against the air as it struggled to lift them further.

Swinging his weight let him get a kick in, one strong enough to make the thing think twice over keeping him in its grasp. Before it could take him far Tobirama fought his arm free, skin ripping further- and he was crashing through the branches before he had a chance to right himself.

His left shoulder hit and he grunted in pain, knowing it was displaced but unable to do anything for it as he attempted to catch himself on the next branch. With chakra pooling on his palms he managed, his weight swinging and making him hit the bottom of the branch, his teeth grinting against the pain that shot through his arm at the impact.

It didn’t give him long to catch his breath after having it knocked out of him. Within a fraction of a moment it was on him, ripping him from the branch with a snarl, tossing him towards the forest floor as if it hoped gravity would deal with him.

They fought back and forth for several minutes. Tobirama brought out the few weapons he’d brought with him, glad he was prepared for close quarters combat considering the talons that came slashing at his face once his feet met bark once more. With one of his arms essentially useless it was a bit harder to use jutsu, and slipping in hand sighs while fighting it off was even harder. He managed to use raiton on his kunai and watched the beast’s nostrils flare at it, but it wasn’t caution that it took with him - if anything it became reckless to rid Tobirama of the weapon, hissing and snarling when its skin was burned by the electricity but managing all the same to knock the kunai away.

Neither knew too much about fighting the other. That was made clear at the creature’s reactions to chakra use, Tobirama sneering at the idea that it was used to picking off helpless civilians and not fighting those who could fight back. But he was going in blind as well, having rarely found shinobi skilled enough to keep up with him, and fighting someone who could fly was just drastically different from the rest of his experience.

It was that inexperience that caused Tobirama’s loss. Fighting on the trees meant balancing with chakra in his feet, less access to using them and unable to use his left arm. His right was bleeding horribly from the gashes left by its talons. Even though he landed hits of his own ultimately the creature could dodge him much easier and then swoop back in for close combat before he had a chance to use most any jutsu, Tobirama being pushed back and being hit so hard that he felt his muscles shaking in no time.

This had been a mistake. He knew that without a doubt when he felt talons rip across his face, gold spray with the swipe, pain making him gasp and jerk back in hopes of taking the least amount of damage. No shinobi alive hadn’t faced some sort of sharp and fierce pains but it felt like fire in his wounds, as if those talons had been dipped in venom

He wasn’t prepared to fight it. Had thought himself the only person who could stop the casualties and was going to become one himself. Tobirama stumbled backwards and teetered to the side as yet another swing came for him, blocking the blow with his already injured forearm as he searched quickly for a way to disengage.

Before he could figure out how to safely do so, or do so without taking much more damage, one of its wings hit his head full force and sent him toppling over, unable to stop himself with his vision swimming from the impact. His whole body landed on a branch that must not have been too far down considering it did not shatter his bones but it left him gasping for air, left arm snapping underneath him and instinct alone keeping him aware enough to stick himself to the branch with chakra.

It landed over him, anger and killing intent coming off of it in waves. Talons gleaming in the sun that filtered through from above, dripping Tobirama’s blood, drawn back and ready to land the final blow.

That was the last image he ever expected to hold in his sight. What stopped the creature, he didn’t know. All he saw was the hesitation - and then Tobirama saw nothing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay that's the last of what I had finished. Have part of chapter 9 done but idk how much.

**Author's Note:**

> This has been sitting in a WIPs folder for AGES - was the original gift planned for an exchange this past year. And considering I've got several chapters just waiting to be slapped up, I thought I might as well post what I already have done. Otherwise I'll keep forgetting I have this story started :|


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